


I wonder if I ever cross your mind (or the time when Cas drunk-texted Dean)

by keepcalmanddonotblink, MashiarasDream



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Drunk Texting, Emoticons, Love Confessions, M/M, Man Pain, set after S10
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-05
Updated: 2015-09-05
Packaged: 2018-04-19 03:45:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4731662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keepcalmanddonotblink/pseuds/keepcalmanddonotblink, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MashiarasDream/pseuds/MashiarasDream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The last time Dean has seen Cas, he still had the Mark. He’s also tried to kill him. So excuse him if he doesn’t expect Cas to drunk-text him in the middle of the night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I wonder if I ever cross your mind (or the time when Cas drunk-texted Dean)

**Author's Note:**

> It was late. We did a thing. It is weird. We were probably drunk. You’ll never know.

The first time his phone buzzes Dean chooses to ignore it, because hell, it’s in the middle of the night and he wants to sleep. So screw whoever sends him a message right now. It’s way too early for anything.  
But shortly after that his phone buzzes again so he sighs and tries to determine where he put his phone before going to bed. Maybe the texts are important. They better be. 

  


  
Dean rereads the messages at least three times. What the hell? A quick look at the clock makes him sigh out loud as he quickly types in a reply.

  


  
The answer comes promptly and Dean is almost afraid to look.

  


“Oh fuck’s sake, Cas,” Dean mutters and hits dial. “Come on, pick up your phone! You can text, you can talk!”

“DeeEan??? Why are you calling me?” Cas blares into the phone. 

Oh great, the first time he actually talks to Cas after – and, “Cas, are you drunk?” Dean tries to wrap his mind around this but he just can’t. 

“Why d’you ask? I can do what I want, I am centuries old. And yoooouu do it all the time,” Cas sing-songs.

Cas’ answer hurts more than Dean cares to admit, so he defaults back to anger. “I do what all the time? Drunk text you at 3am? Cause I don’t think so.” 

“Come on, DeeEEan, you know what I am talking about,” Cas whines. “I am drowning all of my feelings and it is greeeaat.”

“Cas, man, you okay? Is this about the bunker and…” Suddenly, the picture of him looming over a beaten down, bloodied angel is more vivid than it had been in weeks.

“Not listening, not listening, don’t want to know. Don’t want to consider your side. Have considered enough of your side for a life-time or two. Did enough… Have enough… Basically, I’ve had enough of this.” Cas sounds less sing-songy drunk and more determined the longer the sentence rambles on.

“You’ve had enough,” Dean repeats tonelessly. “So, you’re drunk calling to break up with me?” Even for him the sarcasm hits way too close to home. Too close to what he actually is afraid of. 

“If I remember right it was you who called me,” Cas answers petulantly. 

Cas doesn’t react to the breaking up part and it’s an out and Dean knows it. But he’s already gotten over himself and asked so he might as well get an actual answer. “Alright,” he amends, “so you’re drunk texting me frikkin’ bees as an intro to breaking up with me? What the hell, man?”

“I like bees,” Cas pouts. “And why are you so angry with me? I’m not the one who tried to kill y– ” There’s a short gasp as Cas’ cuts himself off, then a puff of breath and then silence. 

The rage of the Mark rushing through him. The impact of his fist on Cas’ face. Cas stumbling backwards, pleading with him to stop. Never once fighting back. Trying to reach Dean, to pull him back from the edge, and at the same time just accepting that he’s probably going to get killed in the process. And he succeeded with his plan, didn’t he? In a way, anyway. Not in keeping the Mark from finding other targets. But with the rage running against Cas’ stoic refusal to fight, the Mark screeched and stomped its feet and urged him to kill, but the part that was still Dean wanted something else out of this fight. And suddenly knew that he wouldn’t get it. That he wouldn’t be able a goad Cas into killing him. Next time I won’t miss. A lie of course. He hadn’t missed, he’d given up. But it sits in his throat like he’s swallowed a two by four. He’ll never manage to swallow it down or cough it back up. He’ll never be able to make this right. 

“Dean?” 

It is small and worried and breaks him out of his thoughts. He better end this call before it destroys him completely. But not before Cas hasn’t said his piece. He owes him that much. “Yeah, Cas. You’re right. You’re the one who has a right to be angry. So, you say what you need to say and I’ll listen and then we’ll hang up.” For most likely forever. But Dean doesn’t say it, just lets it hang in the air. 

“Dean, we don’t have to do this,” Cas starts, voice decidedly more sober than before.

Dean interrupts him before he can get far with that. “Nah, Cas, this was coming. Now’s as good a time as any. Whatever you want to say, I deserve it.” The words curdle on his tongue like sour milk. If he could get away with never facing this, he’d prefer the hell out of that. But he’s hurt Cas enough as is. He can’t go on in this limbo of whether they’re still friends or not. If Cas needs to cut him out of his life, he has to let him. It’ll hurt like a bitch, but it’s not like Dean isn’t used to losing everyone he loves. Cares about. Whatever.

“Dammit, Dean, stop it. I can’t concentrate.”

“Stop what?” Dean asks dumbfounded.

“I can feel longing, Dean. I can hear it. And you’re loud!” Cas accuses. 

“Oh.” He doesn’t really know what this means, but he knows that it doesn’t bode well for him. “You can hear - my longing?”

There is a muffled laugh on the other end of the line. It’s exasperated but also – weirdly fond. “Yes, Dean. I always have.”

“Oh. Umm, sorry, I guess?” Dean scratches his neck in embarrassment. “I’ll try to stop?” he says hesitantly enough that it comes out like a question. Because he has no idea how. He can give Cas space and never call him again. He can stop praying to him, hard as that’s going to be. But he isn’t sure he can turn off his longing quite the same way.

“Dean!” Definitely exasperated now. 

He’s got the urge to apologize again, though he isn’t really sure for what this time. The other billion times that Cas was fed up with him were clearer that way. 

“You don’t have to apologize,” Cas says, softer now. “You don’t have to stop, either. Some days,” Cas swallows heavily before continuing, “some days your prayers were the only thing that kept me going. That stopped me from – you know.” 

And Cas has said that to him before. After Purgatory. And Dean had conveniently suppressed the memory and never mentioned it again. God, Dean’s not just a shitty friend, he’s a shitty excuse for a human being. He clears his throat and stutters a few helpless words. “Glad you - didn’t. Don’t know what I’d… I… Glad you’re still here, man. On this planet, I mean. Because I’d understand, you know. If after that whole thing in the bunker – If you want nothing to do with me anymore. I get it, okay? No need to break it to me gently or feel bad about it.”

“Got off your high horse, Dean,” Cas bites and suddenly sounds pissed. “Just listen to me for once instead of going on assumptions. I never texted you to say goodbye. I just wanted to show you the bees. They were sweet. I like bees.” It sounds ridiculously defensive.

“The bees? Why exactly did you want to show me the bees at 3am? And don’t say because they’re cute. That’s so not a reason.” Because Dean has a sudden nagging suspicion. There had been bees in his dream just before Cas sent that text. The bees were in no way the star of the dream, though. That would be the naked man underneath. 

And yeah, he thinks he can hear Cas pressing his lips together as he refuses to answer.

Which is probably a good choice. Dream-nudity is most likely not a good direction for their conversation to go. Or nudity at all. Cas is in public. Clothed. Dean puts as many layers of fabric as possible on him in his thoughts, just to get rid of the lingering images. Then he sighs and resolutely changes the topic. “Cas? Are you still at the bar? Cause you sound somewhat more sober now. You should probably make use of that and find a place for the night instead of going for another round of drinks.”

“I don’t need a place for the night, Dean. My wings don’t work anymore but I don’t need to sleep.” Then, after a short pause, “I am at a motel, though. Didn’t really know where else to go. And I could bring my own whiskey.”

“You’re drinking on your own? In a motel room? Jesus, man. You sure you’re okay?” 

“I haven’t been okay for a long time, Dean,” Cas answers softly.

There isn’t too much to say to that. It’s Dean’s fault and he knows it. Cas had been a good angel before Dean came along and wrecked it all. “Anything I can do to help you get your wings back?” That might atone for at least a part of his sins.

“Dean, my falling is not your responsibility. It never was. I made my own choices.” And dammit if Cas doesn’t sound forgiving and gentle and everything that Dean doesn’t deserve. 

Because he knows that it is his fault and he really doesn’t know what Cas wants from him. So he gets angry and frustrated, “Goddammit, Cas, I’m offering to help here. What else do you want me to say?”

Another deep sigh escapes Cas before he very quietly admits. “You’re already helping. I… I guess I was lonely. That’s why I texted. I am sorry that I woke you from your dream. I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“So you did listen in to my dream,” Dean confirms what he was afraid of.

“It’s not like I can turn it off,” Cas defends. “Well, technically I can but you’re loud, Dean. And I kind of didn’t want to turn you off.” 

Not that Dean is panicking or anything but how much of that dream did Cas listen to? Because it started with bees but then it progressed. Quickly. “Uhhhh… what exactly, ummm, did you, ummm? How long were you listening in to that dream?”

“Is it of import?” Cas answers. “It was just one dream out of many.”

And umm, how often exactly is Cas stalking his dreams? Because yeah, this was just one dream out of many with a similar content, but… Dean tries very hard to keep from blushing. Cas is drunk and this probably doesn’t mean anything. Cas has too big a heart for his own good. He probably checks in to make sure Dean didn’t get himself killed. Which in itself is a kindness that Dean doesn’t deserve and that he shouldn’t read into. And he definitely shouldn’t make Cas uncomfortable by blurting accidental truths like ‘I miss you, man. I miss you more than you’ll ever know.’

So instead, he goes with, “I’d give you the speech about personal space again, but it’s hopeless. You know what? Why don’t I call you back sometime, okay? Cause in opposition to you, I’m human. I need sleep.”

“You’ll call back sometime?” Cas asks, voice instantly panicked. And yeah that unsaid ‘and then we’ll hang up forever’ still hangs in the air between them. “Dean, don’t! Don’t go! I… I am sorry! I am sorry about everything! I just... I just want you to know that!”

“Cas, stop! You’re drunk. And you clearly don’t remember things right when you’re drunk cause I’m the one who’s gotta apologize for the rest of his life. Okay? God, I wish I could just tell you to go sleep it off.” Dean rubs the bridge of his nose. He feels so old and useless. He tries so hard and it’s never enough. Everyone dies, or almost dies, or leaves him. Bobby and Ellen and Jo and Charlie. He’s got Sam and Cas almost killed more than once. And right now he doesn’t even know whether he wants to hug Cas close and beg his forgiveness or whether he wants him as far away from him as possible so that there is no chance he hurts him even more. 

Cas huffs. “I have already forgiven you, Dean. Like I always do.”

“But Cas – why?” Dean asks because he’s pretty sure he’s done more than one thing that should be unforgivable. 

“Do you really not know, Dean? Or do you not want to know?” Cas asks quietly. “Because I can go on pretending if that’s what you want.”

And suddenly Dean’s throat is too dry to answer. 

“I could show you,” Cas says wistfully. “If you were here I could show you. I thought it was just a mirror of your longing at first. But it’s not. It’s my own. It has my colors. Not yours. I could show you.”

“Cas?” Dean croaks.

“I.. I want to come home. I… I miss you, too.”

“You - what?” Dean is stumbling over the words. Has Cas heard him? Because he’s pretty sure he’s never said that out loud.

“I want to come back home to you, Dean. To you. It’s not – you don’t have to – but I thought you should know.”

Oh. Oh. “Well, then what are you waiting for?” And that came out gruffer than he intended. But he’s wanted Cas home ever since he flew away the first time. 

All of Cas’ easy confidence crumbles with Dean’ words. “You – you mean that? You want me – home? You… I… but what about… and… Dean… I am not what I used to be. I’m not – I’m fallen. My powers are diminished. And somehow – everything I see has your colors now. Somehow I can’t see anything else.”

“Cas!” Dean stops him before this can spiral out of control again. “Come home already, will ya?”

“I will. If you want me.” 

He doesn’t say ‘if you want me to’ or ‘if you want me there’. Just plain ‘if you want me’. And God help him, he wants Cas. “Cas, man, you’re stalking my dreams. And my - longing or whatever. You know that answer. Now, can your wings make that one trip?” Dean’s heart is pounding as he expects to hear the familiar sound of wings rustling beside of him. 

But Cas sighs. “I wish they could. There is nothing I’d want more than to be with you. But I can’t.”

“Goodness, Cas, stow the melodrama. There’s other ways to get around than wings.” If Cas can’t come to him, Dean will come to him. And he can’t wait another day or even a minute. So he gets up from his bed and goes to search for a pair of jeans and a flannel while he asks, “So where are you, man? And don’t say in a motel room. Where is that motel?”

“I am in Lawrence… in the…” Dean can hear rustling and a short huff before Cas says, “Angel Heart motel, room 401.”

Dean can’t help but laugh in disbelief, “Lawrence? Angel Heart motel? Seriously? You couldn’t have found something more cliché?” 

“Stop mocking me, Dean. Or do you want me to recount everything that happens in motel rooms in your dreams?” Cas threatens him and Dean really doesn’t need to think about this right now. Not with Cas’ voice washing over him, all gravelly and like he wants to tell him all about this. Dean will be sporting an inappropriate boner in no time. And then he won’t make it out of here. 

“Shut up. And stay put. I’m gonna be there in a few hours, okay?”

“You… you are coming to get me???” 

There is a disbelief in Cas’ voice that hurts Dean deep inside. How could he ever not want Cas? “Yes, Cas. I’m coming to get you. Stay put. Be safe until I’m there. I’m going to hang up now. But I’ll be there. Understood?” All he wants right now is to be with Cas, to bring him home, to hug him tight, to tell him...

“I will wait for you. And Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“I... I love you.” Cas says it quietly, shyly, like he’s not sure he should be saying it. 

“I’ll be there. Just wait for me.” Dean hangs up and packs his phone away. But then he gets the phone back out of his pocket and types one last message before he hits the road.

  
  


He’ll have time to figure out the appropriate emoticons for that.


End file.
